


The Garden (Part III)

by DHW



Series: The Garden [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/pseuds/DHW
Summary: Even more fun in The Garden (Originally written for the Apologies challenge at GrangerSnape100, 2008)





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. They belong to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended. I make no money from this piece of fiction

\----

Severus Snape was late. 

Swearing colourfully and fluently under his breath, he ran up the steps that led to The Garden, his dark robes billowing out behind him. She would not be pleased. Not in the slightest. He’d never been late. Not in two year’s worth of sessions. 

He glanced at his watch, his dark eyebrows rising as he clocked the time. Eight-thirty. He was twenty minutes late. His Mistress was going to have a fit. That black marker would be the least of his worries. 

Damn Albus. Damn both him and his fucking odd socks to sodding, blistering hell.

\----

Panting, he burst through the main entrance, ignoring the puzzled glances of the other clients as he ran at full pelt down towards her office. The wooden floor was slippery beneath his boots and he stuck his hands out for balance, trailing the left down the wall as he ran. A stitch slowed his pace, but he didn’t stop, too afraid. 

Reaching the end of the corridor, he skidded to a halt, almost slamming bodily into her door. Sweating and more than a little red in the face, he knocked on her door, waiting with bated breath for her reply.

\----

‘Enter.’

Severus flinched. She did not sound pleased.

His head bowed, he opened the door, shuffling inside in what he hoped was an apologetic sort of stance. He clasped his hands behind his back to disguise their shaking. He didn’t have to be Sybil Trelawney to guess what was about to happen. 

‘I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.’

Us? His head snapped up, noting that his Mistress was not alone. Another woman, younger and thinner, stood by her side, dressed in a heavily-boned corset and matching knickers. There was no collar around her neck.

\----

‘I’m sorry Mistress,’ he said, dropping to his knees, the joints creaking as he did so. ‘The Headmaster kept me behind after the staff meeting. I got away as soon as I could.’

He chanced another glance upwards, his dark gaze falling upon Hermione, sat in her chair, red silk moulding itself to her perfect curves. Her face was taught with anger, pale beneath the light dusting of make-up. 

‘And it didn’t occur to you to send some sort of notification?’ she replied, pouring herself a glass of wine. ‘When you make appointments, Severus, I expect you to keep them.’

\----

‘I’m sorry.’

He wasn’t sure what else to say. Dread coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach, making him feel ill rather than excited.

‘You’re not nearly sorry enough,’ she snapped. ‘Twenty-two minutes late, without word of your whereabouts. It is simply not acceptable behaviour for a sub of mine.’

And then it occurred to him. She was worried about him. A tiny thrill ran down his spine at the thought, but it did little to dispel the fear that curled in his abdomen. A fear that intensified as Hermione turned to the other woman, her face cold.

\----

‘Ella, you are dismissed. Severus does not require a treat tonight.’

The young redhead made her way out of the room, her dangerously high heels clicking upon the floor as she went. Draining her glass, Hermione rose up from her chair and walked towards Severus. She hooked her toes beneath his chin, forcing his head back as far as it would go. 

‘You cannot spend your life blaming others for your own mistakes, Severus,’ she hissed, her eyes wild. ‘Tonight you will learn that for yourself, as yourself. You must earn back the right to play out little games.’ 

‘Yes, Mistress.’

\----

A sneer graced her red lips and she snatched her foot out from beneath him. Her toenails, red like her lips, glinted in the lamplight, drawing his gaze. 

‘Get up.’

Severus did as he was told, scrambling up onto his feet, wishing he wasn’t quite so ungainly. He was all elbows and knees, like a gangly teenager. His head bowed, he watched Hermione’s painted toenails move out of his field of vision. 

The sound of sliding wood met his ears, followed by the swish of a wand and a muttered spell. He didn’t dare look up to see the result.

\----

‘You are to strip down to your trousers,’ she said, her words cold and clear. ‘Leave your clothes in a neat pile where you are standing.’

His long fingers fumbled with the buttons, but eventually he was down to his trousers, his shoes and socks accompanying the large pile. A slight sheen of sweat still coated his skin, a sign of his earlier exertion. It glinted in the light, highlighting his imperfections. 

‘Come here.’

His head rose as he began to walk towards her, his eyes going wide. She was stood beside a large x-frame, stroking the painted wood lovingly.

\----

‘Do you know what this is?’ she said, a hand cupping his cheek. Her fingers were soft, comforting, and he leant into the touch, his stomach clenching with something other than fear. 

He nodded. 

She slapped him hard, her nails leaving angry red marks upon his pale face. 

‘Answer me properly.’

‘Yes, Mistress,’ he said, his cheek stinging. 

‘Good. And do you know what I plan to do with it?’ 

‘No, Mistress.’

A nasty smile curled her painted lips. She pushed him back until his spine collided with the wood.

‘The perhaps it is time for you to find out.’

\----

Ropes, thick and heavy, slid around his wrists and ankles, fixing his limbs into position – his legs and arms spread a little too wide, his head unsupported by the frame. She caressed the knots lovingly, her fingers never quite touching his skin. A small sound of approval escaped her throat, and she sucked her lip between her bottom teeth, biting it gently as she took in the erotic image her pet created.

‘This,’ she hissed, her eyes sweeping his bound frame, ‘is almost worth missing your treat for.’

‘Mistress?’ he gasped, his chest tight, but she wasn’t listening. 

‘So beautiful.’

\----

Her hands left the knots, her fingertips trailing across in the inner skin of his arms. Her touch left fire trailing in its wake, making him squirm, the sensation too much. They skimmed down his sides, tracing every rib, every scar, and then along the skin that sat just above the waistband of his trousers. 

‘It’s a wonder I don’t tie you up more often, Severus,’ she said, placing a kiss to the top of his sternum. ‘You look good in rope. Perhaps better in chains.’

Excited by the thought, she licked the hollow at his throat, making him groan.

\----

‘Do chains sound good to you, Severus?’

Her fingers circled his belly button, the muscles of his abdomen tightening beneath her hands as she did so. She lent forward, taking a pert nipple into her mouth, rubbing the puckered skin with the flat of her tongue. 

‘Yes, Mistress,’ he gasped, a guttural moan escaping him.

Hermione bit down at his confirmation, sending a spike of blissful pain through the building pleasure. Her mouth released him with a wet pop. 

‘They sound good to me. You, clad in nothing but thick, strong chains. Bound to my bed and at my mercy.’

\----

Severus’ hips jerked at her words, pushing his rock hard cock into the flesh of her belly. The frame afforded little movement, but she was so close that it didn’t matter. Gasping at the pleasure, his hips moved again, pressing harder this time as he sought relief. 

She moved back, her hands smoothing over his chest, denying him release and heightening the torture. He screwed his eyes shut, the pleasure almost painful as he felt a drop of pre-cum slide down the side of his shaft. 

‘Mistress, please,’ he whimpered, his head back as he forced air into his lungs.

\----

‘Do you deserve to be fucked, Severus? Do you really deserve it?’ she whispered, sliding his hard nipples between her fingers. ‘I don’t think you do. You take but you never give. Never. Do you ever truly yield to me? Give your very life to me, letting me do with it what I will? You say you do, but I don’t believe you. There’s still defiance in your eyes, even after two years. Which leads me to wonder—’

Her hand slid down to his crotch, grasping his straining cock through his trousers. 

‘How much do you really want this?’

\----

Her hand rubbed him gently though the thin fabric, her fingers tracing up and down his length with a skill bourn of time and patience. He groaned, pressing himself further into her hand. His arms flexed in their bindings, his hands balling into fists as she rubbed harder, shocks of white-hot pleasure blazing their way through his body.

He was close to the edge. Dangerously close. 

‘I want this, Mistress,’ he managed to choke out.

Her hand squeezed him. Hard. 

‘It’s a pity, then, that you don’t deserve it.’

And then she was gone, leaving him hard, aching and alone.

\----


End file.
